Page 38 of The Best of Times
“I dread to think how much I’m going to drink in the next week,” Granny said with a chuckle. “I’m having a hen do on Thursday. My first.”
“Didn’t you have one before you married Grandpa?” Andrew asked.
“Oh no. It wasn’t respectable, according to my mother.”
Victoria turned to her parents. “Did you have one, Mum?”
His mother smiled. “I had a fancy dress party at Tramp in town.”
Aron raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t imagine his mother partying with the Tramp crowd that generally included A-list celebrities and royalty back in the day.
“Who did you go as?” Aron asked, genuinely interested.
“Princess Diana,” his mother replied. “I had the haircut in those days. Everyone did.”
There was a warmth in her eyes that hadn’t been there for such a long time. It unnerved Aron. Yet, instinct told him to respond.
“Hey,” Aron said, glancing across at his mother. “Would you like to come? And Victoria.”
To his amazement, she flushed red. “Really? Oh I’d love to.”
“Me too,” Victoria piped up.
He sipped from his drink. He didn’t know what to make of this situation. One thing was for sure, he would get to the bottom of it. For good or for bad.
Stealing a glance at his mother, he saw a smile that went all the way to her eyes.
Weird.
It was well into the evening when they got home. Once they’d finished at The Dorchester, Granny had insisted they go to a wine bar that she and the Professor had found recently on a jaunt into the city. Of course she would.
It was fabulous and drinks flowed. Aron and his mother still circled each other warily but no arguments had erupted. Just to be sure, he had gone onto sparkling water early on in proceedings. Unlike Granny, Victoria, Andrew and his father who would have a monster of a credit card bill tomorrow.
Granny had gone straight to bed. The champagne must have hit her harder than he realised. He saw no other reason for her not indulging in a blow-by-blow dissection of the day.
It came as a relief. His mother’s charm offensive had confused him enough without Granny’s opinion. He needed to let things settle a bit before facing that.
The clock had only just chimed nine. Aron put the book down he’d been trying to read. The silence in the house was suffocating.
“Fuck it.”
He leapt up and grabbed his coat. The cold air slapped like a frozen fish as he stepped out of the house. Gently he closed the door behind him. Granny might be in a Bollinger-induced slumber, but he wouldn’t put it past Parkin taking notes on his movements.
The Crescent was quiet as he dashed up the cobbles.
Aron ran up the steps to the Professor’s house and pressed the bell. It was opened by the man himself.
“Aron.”
“Oh hi, Professor. I wondered if Paul was available.”
“He’s in the bath.”
Suddenly, he realised how ridiculous he was being.
“Of course. Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“Why don’t you come in? I’m sure he’ll be like a prune by now. I’ll give him a knock.”
